Rose and Release
by icefalcon
Summary: Not many people know that is possible to send owl post from Azkaban. Post OotP. Slash.


A/N - This story is based on the Harry Potter series and the anime Revolutionary Girl Utena. It is not a crossover. It is basically Utena - Harry Potter style. I will be drawing from both the series and the movie of Utena, and all five current published Harry Potter books. I may have to take some liberties, largely on behalf of the Utena transference to the Harry Potter universe, which means criticism like 'Hey, the part where Utena!Harry dances around naked singing the entire score of the Sound of Music didn't happen in the series' isn't applicable, but 'Hey, the part where Utena!Harry dances around naked singing the entire score of the Sound of Music doesn't ring true with the themes of Utena' most definitely is applicable. 

The world of Harry Potter and the world of Utena are the property of their respective authors/artists, so on and so forth. I am making no money out of this.

----

_Once upon a time, years and years ago, there was a little princess who was very sad, for her mother and father had died. Before the princess appeared a travelling prince riding upon a white horse. He had a regal bearing and a kind smile. The prince wrapped the princess in a rose scented embrace and gently wiped the tears from her eyes. "Little one," he said, "who bears up alone in such deep sorrow - Never lose that strength or nobility, even when you grow up."_

"I give you this ring to remember this day. We will meet again - this will lead you to me, one day."

Perhaps the ring the prince gave her was an engagement ring. This was all well and good, but so impressed was she by him, that the princess vowed to become a prince herself one day.

Sadly, the dreams of the little princess did not come true - during her lifetime...

---

Not many people know that is possible – nay, even permissible, to send owl post from Azkaban. 

The ancient loophole in the laws had never been used more than thrice in the entirety of Azkaban's history – largely due to the fact that after a certain time period, prisoners sank too deeply into madness to recall how to hold a quill. That is, thrice only until one Lucius Malfoy, well versed in obscure Wizarding clauses, was interred within its walls. True, by law, his peremptory request to send an owl to his son could not be denied, but it could and was viewed with deep suspicion. Eventually, Lucius was allowed quill, ink and paper, and necessary preparations were duly made for its possible delivery, hastily cobbled together with reference to long neglected volumes. 

Reputedly, many, many years ago, an extremely high ranking witch found herself in Azkaban charged with attempted regicide. Once cleared and released of her charges, she – largely through large sums of gold – forced through a series of laws detailing the rights or lack thereof of prisoners in Azkaban. It is believed that in doing so, she laid plans for a possible future escape – plans well worth her time, as she was later found guilty on another murder charge. No matter what the story, or no matter what the reason, the laws were never repealed. As such, the laws specifically detailing correspondence were designed to protect the privacy of the inmates. Letters entering and leaving Azkaban were not to be read, under pain of an obscure curse so old its practical application had been forgotten. 

The balance between allowing prisoners this basic contact and monitoring this contact for potential threats was achieved with a series of ancient Frankish potions that determined the intent of the letter. If a drop placed on the parchment turned blue, it indicated the letter was of harmful intent. Red indicated plans and pleas for escape attempts. Green indicated the writer was expressing a desire for revenge upon those that forced them into Azkaban. Purple indicated that the writer was discussing details of their crime. Yellow, orange, pink, black – all these shades indicated an entire range of inappropriate threats, problems and reasons why the letter would not be sent, and instead confiscated by the Ministry. Only a letter that displayed no colour change indicated a complete lack of maliciousness or intent to harm. Only these letters, by law, would be sent.

And so, to the surprise and bafflement of the Ministry staff currently quartered at Azkaban, Lucius' letter demonstrated no colour change. Against all prohibitions, curiosity overwhelmed the one secretary – newly recruited to the Order of the Phoenix - to the point where she opened the letter. She dutifully copied it, and hastily sent off a duplicate to Dumbledore, before reading it herself.

Later that evening, the woman died. Her body had been pierced by a thousand swords.

The Frankish potions, brewed up according to half-remembered ritual and half-deciphered codices, proved to be more than just an indication of the intent of the letter. The potion formed a magical, binding contract. The letter had proved harmless, and that was as far as the Ministry was permitted to go. Any further, and the contract would be violated – with terrible consequences. Henceforth too, all letters of harmless content would be bound by this contract.

And these harmless letters indeed flew, much to the anxiety of both the newly pliant Ministry and the Order.

All the Order and the Ministry could puzzle out over the content and purpose of the letters was based on the copy of the first letter that Lucius wrote – the one that the woman died for. A brief epistle, it detailed rather incoherently the pulsating and devouring dreams of a man going mad. Dreams of a castle floating in the sky, dreams of brides, of princes, of knightly duels, of princesses, of signet rings, of witches, of curses, of an ominous egg, of roses. Oh, above all, how he dreamt of roses. 

The letter concluded with a request to Draco to look into the matter of the roses. A little known fact revealed during the period of Lucius' questioning by the Ministry involved a stylized tattoo of a rose that every male Malfoy possessed. Even under Veritaserum, Lucius could not satisfactorily explain this tattoo away. It was a Malfoy tradition of remembrance, even if they knew no longer why, or what it stood in memory of. It was this rose that Lucius was above all dreaming of, and it was this rose that Lucius above all wanted an answer to and absolution from.

Surely, pronounced a select member of the Order after perusing the letter, in allowing Draco to dabble with research into an area with no real practical ramifications, in allowing him to channel his excess grief into an avenue that could possibly turn his interest away from the Death Eaters, surely no harm could come from this? 

The owls and letters were permitted to continue.

But was that really such a good idea?


End file.
